The traditional newsstand is an exclusive club, but will Google News prove to be more accessible? Photograph: Sarah Lee for the Guardian

What is the difference between a national newspaper's online offering and any other website?

Well, aside from the offices, the huge staff, the money, the reputation, the standard of journalism, and the subeditors (boy, I mrs them), there is only one thing: the newspaper's ability to distribute its content.

People decide between papers on newsstands in one of three ways: tribal loyalty, assessing the headlines on the front page, or, in the case of the Telegraph, weighing up whether the attractive It girl photograph alongside the splash is worth forgoing the Times's sport pages for.

To even be part of this exclusive club, you need a proper newspaper – and all of the costs and barriers to entry that come with it.

However, the digital newsstand is a much easier place to get your product on sale. Essentially, it is all about pleasing one man (if indeed he is a man): Mr Google.

For several weeks, both Sam and myself remained mystified by the "Big G".

We convinced ourselves the only way you could be in the Google News listings was if you were "proper", but in the digital age what is proper? And how does anyone know what's going on behind your back end?

It was only after seeing several television blogs, which appeared to have been written by monkeys and typewriters, at the top of the Google News entertainment section that we decided to investigate further.

Sam knew a man who knew a man who once worked at Google. That was enough, he set up the meeting.

In a low-lit hotel bar off the Strand, Sam and I hung on Brian's every word as he told us tale after tale of digital subterfuge on the Californian technology circuit (none of which we really understood). Eventually I plucked up the courage to gently push Brian in the only direction that interested us.

"Fascinating stuff, er, so, erm, we were wondering if you could help us …," I stammered.

Sam interjected: "What my colleague is trying to say is – well, is there anything you could do to help us get onto Google News?"

There was a long silence. Brian sucked air in through his teeth like a plumber about to deliver an outrageous quote for fixing a faulty ballcock: "I don't know about that, guys. Are you asking me to help you get favourable treatment?"

"Er, I wouldn't say that exactly," I replied diplomatically.

Another silence fell in our corner of the bar, candles flickered, shadows rose and fell against the wooden panelled walls; this was the closest I had ever felt to being a conspirator in anything.

"OK guys, I'll help you," Brian whispered. "Do exactly what I say, and you'll be OK."

"Ready?" he asked earnestly.

Sam and I nodded.

Brian leaned forward: "Basically, you just have to fill in a form." He then erupted into a belly laugh the likes of which I've rarely seen outside of a live-action Disney film.

"You just need an 'about' page and some XTML. That's it, it takes about a week."

It's never nice to be mocked, but Brian was more or less right.

It's not quite as simple as he made out, but to be a part of Google News, you really only have to have a sitemap and convince them that you're a company.

"We are a company, right?" said Sam as we hunched over his laptop at the Lamb and Flag, filling in the application form.

"Well, yes, we have a business that makes a bit of money, and we have staff – us. That's a business, right?"

Wrong. A week later, Google said no.

After making a phone call to Brian, we discovered that to be a publishing business in Google's eyes, we had to have an editor, and some named staff. A can of worms was opened, but there's no time to discuss office politics now.